Go East - Go West: On the Eventful Damage History and Restoration
of the Painting

"Javanese Couple"

Renate
Kant

To European restorers of paintings with their high academic standards and
requirements for a sensitively controlled and finely tuned environment in the
rehabilitation of important works of
national heritage, working sessions in Indonesia present multifarious
challenges.

Welcomed by us with joy and curiosity is, among other things, the
resonance aroused by our temporary mission. It usually takes only a short time
before collectors and art dealers contact us and bring their damaged objects
for examination and valuation. Dialogue concerning the origin, nature of damage
and aging, specifically of paintings in a tropical climate leads us to an
exchange of ideas, often including the hope of consolidation with aesthetic and
perhaps financial profit. Where distinct heavy damage is evident, the concerns
which arise are then addressed.

Before we begin by conducting a formal estimation of value and the
technological examination, time and again the fascinating and dynamic moment
occurs when the object is presented to the restorer. As in a good clinical case
history where the doctor receives the patient in a receptive, cognitive and
intuitive way, and is willing to outline the whole circle of the intact and the
injured personality, so to speak, I as a restorer holistically establish the
space for a meeting with the object. This often, and not without “that certain
tickle”, leads to spontaneous contact between us.

Picture 2:

(four
colors)

"Javanese
Couple"

(after Restoration)

Caption:

Raden
Saleh, Javanese Couple, oil on canvas

(194 x
128 cm), 1837 (after restoration)

At this point a permanent dialogue begins which in most cases only comes
to an end when the painting leaves the studio. Or like an inspired relationship
between friends, a dialogue would open again after a time of separation where,
nurtured with experience and with a new focus, the painting tells me another
hidden secret of its existence as soon as I, the viewer, begin to ask new
questions.

Circumstances of
meeting and implications

This happened to me recently with the object “Javanese Couple”, painted
and signed by Raden Saleh, dated in 1837 by his own hand. The painting (oil on
canvas, 194 x 128 cm) was shown to me and my colleague Petra Klier in 1995. It
was in a pitiful condition which could only lead a restorer to describe it as a
“severely traumatized patient”. Inquiry into the matter then began.

This painting made an immediate impression. It was shown to us at a time
when we were engaged in the conservation and restoration of four paintings by
Walter Spies, in connection with a workshop on restoration at the newly-opened
Museum ARMA (Agung Rai Museum of Art) in Ubud, Bali.

The deteriorated condition of the presented canvas suggested that intense
mechanical “abuse” had taken place. Upon viewing, the provenance of the painting
did not reveal itself. Most probably its fate was for 145 years to be subjected
to various moves and routes of transportation between Asia and Europe.

Nevertheless, and despite all the damages, it retained an aura. The
introverted look of the gentleman, which appears to pass over the spectator,
contributes to create the enigmatic charisma that even now, when viewing the
painting three years after the completed restoration, indicates a transcendence
which seems far from subjective.

General description
and state of the canvas

The picture is painted with thin oil color over a yellowish-tone chalk
priming on canvas. The back of the canvas is covered with an opaque brown
coating which most probably was chosen by the painter as an impregnation to
guard against environmental influences. It indicates that the artist, when
creatively drafting the painting, had perhaps already anticipated the
challenges of climate to which it was going to be exposed, because it had
certainly been applied intentionally. Comparisons with other paintings I had
previously seen by Raden Saleh did not show any analogy of this type of
protective treatment.

Numerous discolorations due to the considerably harmful effects of water
and fading of varnish, had led to the so-called perishing of the layers of
paint, resulting in milky opaque coatings. A large oval water stain was evident
in the center of the painting, although only on the front side. Fortunately,
the moisture did not greatly damage the canvas because of the coating the
artist had applied to the back. However, intensive violent removal from the
original stretcher meant that the whole canvas was now laying overstretched and
torn apart in front of us.

Before any restoration was to begin, a precise analysis and in this case
a very detailed one was required in order to describe, on the basis of such an
examination, what were the extent of damages. What measures were to be taken to
adequately address this report and in what meaningful stages they should be
conducted, was also to be decided.

Our observations
concerning the canvas, grounding and layer of paint

Removal from the original stretcher had left traces alongside the tacking
edges which no longer fulfilled their original purpose as they were now so
frayed out and warped. Clearly the greatest damages to have occurred were two
triangle-shaped fis­sures (3 x 3 cm and 6 x 6 cm in diameter) in the upper background of the painting, and another T-shaped fissure (18 cm
horizontally and 5 cm vertically) on the right edge of the painting at the
height of the gentleman’s shoulder. Attending to these injuries would be our
first priority. With the insight gained from past experience, and with a
necessary brutality, these fissures were tacked together with rusty metal
staples on the front of the painting. A black linen tape with its usual
softening agent was blended into a sticky mixture on the back of the canvas
with the intention of covering the fissures.

The machine-made canvas was noted to be of medium strong structure with a
coarse but dense crosshair, woven in a linen thread method. There were no
patched-on pieces. At the time the painting was created it was technically
possible to deliver canvasses to an artist that were industrially woven on
large looms which were already mechanically surfaced with a chalk-oil base.

There was a trend in the middle of the 19th century to commission
full-length portraits of the members of aristocratic families, which led to a
great quantity of paintings, and Dutch, German and Flemish manufacturers were
busy coping with the demand from artists for broad-sized fabrics. One should
recall the European galleries and the genealogies of particular dynasties.

The canvas of the "Javanese Couple" was, however, grounded by
hand with a thin half oil-chalk base. The ground base coat ends at the border
of the portrayal, and the tacking edges are not affected. This evidence shows
that the painting was grounded by the artist himself after it was mounted on to
the stretcher, but it is not possible to reach any conclusion regarding the
stretcher’s construction since it has been lost. Even its exact size, usually
visible due to different hygroscopic conditions where the wooden bars are fixed
to the canvas, shows no traces of diffusion. Neither is there the mark of a
crossbar, which would usually support the stretcher on the front side.

The painting was done in opaque coats with shaded areas; ornaments,
attributes of decor, and the keys in the woman’s hand are highlighted in
impastos. The canvas structure seeps through on to the front side of the
painting and a fine craquelé runs through the entire portrayal. Remarkably, the
right forearm and the hand of the gentleman show a painted correction,
something we would call a “pentimenti” or “repentant move”, where we find an
uncertainty of composition. The signature and date were written in script
letters with red oil-color and have faded slightly, possibly due to the effect
of cleaning on the red paint.

A “cachet”, which was commonly chosen in the second half of the 19th
century to give paintings a deeper light and an older tint appears here as a
brownish layer covering the whole portrait in the so-called gallery-tone. This,
which in Dr. Werner Kraus’ writings is identified in the paintings of Raden
Saleh as “bacon and smoke tone” is not bound with oil on the Double-Portrait.
It was, rather thinly, rubbed on and recessed, and had melted into an insoluble
mixture with the coat of paint. Our endeavors to dissolve this mixture, and our
conjecture that it might be a coating of tinted glue regrettably could not be
proven scientifically. We took specimens in the micro-range from the background
to enable further research to be carried out in an attempt to provide an answer
to this problem.

Earlier intensive attempts to clean the coating by unknown parties
certainly produced an irregular deeper brown cover which, together with the
effect by radiated ultra-violet light, left a very uneven and in places a
completely abraded or wiped-off surface of cachet. This dark discoloration of
the coating was evident at the lower edge and in the entire center of the
painting, as well as in its upper region. The whole surface here seemed rancid,
dry and diffuse.

The previously described oval-shaped water stain in the center of the
painting had been subjected to further attempts of abrasive cleaning, which had
created a faded and weathered “window” on the upper part of the gentleman’s
torso. Not on were the coatings now partially opaque, marring the entire
portrayal, but, most importantly, numerous injuries to the surface of the
coating had destroyed the presentation; flaked parts, lost impasto layers,
abrasions, traces of scratches, fracture lines, impact damages, soiled paint.
The layers of paint had been largely abraded down to the canvas.

Just as improper attempts at cleaning had in times past damaged this
painting, so the rolling up of this large-format portrait in an ill-mannered
way (and without the use of a solid tube as a stabilizing medium) had led to
further rhythmic cracking. In particular, there were flakes in the layers of
paint all the way to the base in the form of distinct traction distortion along
the vertical borders.

Thus, the examination of the painting had, in relation to its eventful
history, produced many questions.

Further
considerations

The decay of the binding medium within the paint had reduced adhesion due
to the impact of too much humidity, and at the same time we were presented with
a dried-out and brittle surface. Were there tropical deluges which inundated
the object?

Was it torn from the stretcher because there was an urgent need for it to
be concealed or moved elsewhere? Where and how was it stored and sold, and what
were the nature of the damages which weakened the cracked roll? Most
importantly, how many hands and treatments had touched the object to date? At
this point one is reminded that, however tempting, a restorer’s responsi­bility
is to avoid undue speculation.

There was only one fact that counted: this piece of art was in urgent
need of an immediate and intensive treatment of consolidation. The examination
showed that these measures needed to be carried out as soon as possible to
prevent further decay and, for ethical reasons, to preserve this important work
of

Now, this ethical situation - which frequently arises - meant in this
instance that restoration especially concerned the final varnish coatings.
These needed to be restricted only to minimal measures which would serve
preservation without losing sight of the aesthetics of the work. The premise of
carrying out partial consolidation of paint layers rather than relining with
impregnated mediums was strongly drawn into question by the degree of damage
which required stabilization. As well as the standard list of measures for
preservation, the principal premise remains, especially for valuable paintings
such as this: there is a great reluctance to undertake cleaning which might
eliminate any traces of history by attempts to remove the coatings.

Also the question of reversibility of any measures chosen for damage
consolidation were given great consideration, as well as ensuring that
materials to be applied were suitable for a tropical climate. Was it
permissible to have a “150-year old seriously ill patient”, if I can use this
analogy here, travel from Bali to Europe? How would “he” react to this new
change of environment and how many times had “he” already experienced such
east-west travel in the past?

The code of honor of restorers as defined by the national and
international associations’ “Code of Ethics” in § A paragraph 5 reads: “A
restorer should only carry out the minimal measures that are necessary, but
also must not consciously neglect anything of importance.”

Decision to travel
and methods of transaction

After investigations in our studio - which is specifically equip­ped with
instruments such as a 40x technoscope - Petra Klier and I decided to transfer
the object from Bali to Germany due to its decayed and damaged state. This
transfer became necessary in order to execute a thorough and professional
restoration.

Intensive but unsuccessful attempts to find a specialized large-diameter
container for transport resulted in the use of PVC irrigation pipe as the
stable painting support.

Japanese paper was used for initial consolidation in areas of heavier
damage, and specifically ordered silicon paper was obtained from Germany to
avoid any further abrasion or increased cracking. The canvas was then rolled
with the painting layer on top. From past experience we understood that a
formal request to an airline would normally succeed in allowing bulky objects
such as this to be stored in the cabin, provided an agreement was reached with
the captain.

Restoration

The dirty surface of the back side of the painting was cleaned by
applying only a very small amount of moisture and by brushing. A light grinding
of the brown oil-paint on the back side and the removal of grease was necessary
to increase the adhesive strength for further relining measures, which were
necessary to support the holes and cracks from which the painting suffered.
Bumps and warpings had to be slowly leveled by treatment with moisture, warmth
and pressure. Broad fissures and holes were connected with frayed-out “bridges”
of extremely thin cotton material, fixed with a micro-crystallized wax glue
which we knew would remain reversible under the impact of heat. Four different
glues, all of varying consistences and chemical compositions, were tested for
application resulting in the selection of a specific acrylic product developed
exclusively for restoration purposes. The relining canvas was prepared by
washing, ironing and stretching, and an impregnation then applied to avoid
shrinking of the fabric.

Since we had chosen to use a fixative - a Swiss acrylic glue from Lascaux
- which could be removed at any time with the application of heat, rather than
the use of a strong stiff relining, we only applied a thin layer of the glue
onto the second relining canvas. An activation by toluene effected a fast
connection between the two textiles. Grounding and layers of paint were fixed
by the same method: an acrylic emulsion-dispersion adhesive liquid of high
permeability thinned with demineralized water. Indeterminable hours during the
entire project were consumed with stabilizing the layers of paint, because only
after the eroded paint substance had been fixed could we start with the careful
cleaning of the surface using slightly alcalic soap and a subsequent
neutralization.

The paint-loss sections were filled with pre-tinted glue-chalk putties
which were required to be particularly elastic, since the object had to be
eventually returned to Indonesia. A pre-retouching with an acrylic and gouache
medium sealed the putty-filled cleavages, and the final retouching procedure
was completed with succeeding layers of oil-resin.

Coating and varnish

A thin coating of organic dammar-resin was employed as a temporary
varnish and depleted areas of the coating were closed by applying an oil-resin
glaze containing a small portion of wax. Extremely dark discolorations of the
historic coating were then softened with a similar oil-resin varnish, and hence
uneven illumination of the surface could be adjusted with dammar-resin
dissolved in white spirit.

After returning the restored painting to Ubud in March 1996 we then
mounted it on a hand-made stretcher frame in the ARMA Museum in Bali. During
later visits to the Agung Rai Museum we conducted further visual examinations
of the condition of layers of paint, varnish and infillings, but no evidence
has been found of any essential change, except for a small distortion.

It has been heartening to participate in preserving this unconventionally
painted double-portrait which all indications suggest was produced in Den Haag
in 1837. The collection of the Museum in Ubud is considerably revalued by the
inclusion of this incomparable and - in the history of painting in Indonesia -
unique piece made by one of the most skillful and original Javanese artists of
the 19th century, and our restorative endeavors have hopefully contributed to
protecting it for future generations. The painting’s authenticity was never in
doubt, even in its reduced condition, and it is assuredly a work of Raden Saleh
Bustaman and an object of the first half of the 19th century.

An object of
comparison

Surprisingly, two years later another painting on canvas reached us. It
was approximately the same size and was also ascribed by Dr. Werner Kraus to
Raden Saleh, an assertion we agreed with, as we then had the opportunity to
make comparative technological examinations of the “Portrait of a Chinese
Gentleman”, full length, oil on canvas 205 x 125 cm, with the previously
described double-portrait with which this article is concerned.

This inspiring portrait of the Chinese gentleman, which also reached us
in a seriously reduced condition, showing losses of the paint layers with vast
areas painted over or abraded, was neither signed nor dated. It nevertheless
shows without doubt certain stylistic and technological analogies. With this
restoration project we had the possibility to conduct a detailed scientific
examination of the paint layers and coatings by using fluorescent radiation
analysis. After taking specimens and encapsulating micro-parts of pigment
concentrate and binding content (observed in racked light enlarged in
cross-sections to 90x to 180x), we obtained evidence that the floor and
background consisted of coatings of tinted resin-oil glaze. An additional
yellowing due to the increasing age of the painting had made the varnish even
darker.

Specific concerns of over-painting of some details made us penetrate more
deeply into the material properties of the object. We were not surprised to
make the following further analogies:

a) The method of the setting of the impastos in the Double-Portrait is
similarly presented in the painting with the Chinese gentleman.

b) Buttons and rings of the Chinese were highlighted in the same way as
the attributes of the Javanese couple.

However, we were most surprised by the discovery of similar pentimenti
(corrections of the composition) concerning the hands, which emerged as shadows
after we had removed the varnish. If we recall the alterations of the contour
of the right hand of the gentleman on the Double-Portrait, it seems obvious
that the left hand of the Chinese was painted in an uncertain manner and
afterwards corrected as was the contour of the right sleeve.

With both paintings the artist seems to have had problems in designing
hands in an anatomically satisfying manner, and we chose not to conceal this
significant expression of style by completely retouching any traces. A
connoisseur will easily be able to discover the alterations of composition.

Also, both paintings show a pattern of simulated stone pavement with
rhomboid and square floor patterns, which in the case of the "Javanese
Couple" is sketched underneath with silver pencil. In the portrait, the
bright floor under the figure of the Chinese gentleman (closed with various
tratteggio retouching strokes over the sections of paint loss) shows a similar
cubistic stone structure. All persons posing in a statue-like manner are
standing en face and solidly positioned on this floor-pattern, a principle of
composition which in its repetitive certainty was chosen by the artist for
reasons of broadened perspective of
space.

This work of art is part of a private collection in Jakarta and can be
regarded, after its restoration, as a uniquely representative painting of high
quality by Raden Saleh. I would date it to the middle of the 19th century.

Future plans

Given that in the future my activities as a restorer and my change of
residence to Indonesia will keep me occupied more in Indonesia than in Germany,
I intend to continue this kind of technical and stylistic comparison with other
paintings. With the aid of scientific research and by using fluorescence
microscopy in cases of encapsulated pigment in cross sections, and binding
specimen analysis to discover related similarities, one could certainly
contribute greatly in extending the knowledge of this most skilled, successful
and influential Javanese artist of the 19th century who worked in the tradition
of European art. Twenty four portraits in Raden Salehís oeuvre are still
missing. What a challenge is waiting in obscurity!

To restore prestigious artworks to their original quality gives
Indonesians a unique opportunity to appreciate the full scope of the artist’s
imagination, vision and expertise. The visitors to ARMA Museum receive a rare
treat as they approach the Raden Saleh. And the collections in private hands
and in other public museums are also enhanced through proper restoration and
conservation. As the value of preserving works of art for future generations
increases in importance in terms of the national heritage, I as restorer stand
at the crossroads of east-west cultural cooperation and exchange. It is an
honor and a challenge to be an active participant.

"Javanese Couple"

On the Authenticity of a Recently Discovered
Painting by Raden Saleh

Werner
Kraus

One of the jewels of the new Agung Rai Museum of Art (ARMA) in Ubud/Bali
is a painting of the well-known Javanese painter Raden Saleh Bustaman
(1811-1880). The oil on canvas painting, which measures 194 x 126 cm, is titled
“Portrait of a Javanese Regent Couple”. It is signed and dated: R. Saleh 1837.
This beautiful painting was up to now unknown to the art world. As far as I
know, no document or source published ever mentioned this painting. Its
provenance is not known to me. It seems that it survived 145 years of tropical
climate - a rather surprising carrier for such a delicate thing as an oil
painting. Some times ago the double-portrait was sent to Lüneburg/Germany and
masterly restored by the well-known restoration workshop Renate Kant &
Partners (see report in this issue of the Bulletin). It is now a centerpiece of
the ARMA Museum in Bali, a must for all art connoisseurs.

Description of the
painting

The painting shows a Javanese nobleman and his wife in life-size, standing in front of an empty brown
background. This composition gives the double portrait a rather flat and modern
appearance. Both persons on the painting are around 40 years of age. The male
is some 10 inches taller than the female and stands in the right half directly
facing the spectator. In relation to the woman, however, he stands on the left
side, which in Javanese context is rather strange, since in Javanese cosmology
the left side is identified as the female realm. In traditional Javanese houses
women used to live in the quarters of the left half of the house. Walking with
her husband in public space, the wife always took the left side. In the dualistic concept of the
Javanese cosmos the left side represents earth, moon, feet, batik, snake,
ocean, female etc., while the right side stands for sun, heaven, head, kris,
bird, mountain, male etc.

Since the representation of the couple on the portrait is for sure no
matter of chance and certainly not an accident, I assume, the position of the
male who is standing on the left side of the woman, gives us a hint that he was
no longer alive by the time the painting was made. In the afterworld the
right-left pattern changes: what is classified as right in this world will be
left in the hereafter and vice versa. The rather absent glance of the male, the
direction he looks beyond the spectator, seems to support the hypothesis that
he was already deceased by the time the portrait was painted. His expression is
rather unemotional. His right foot is placed a little bit in front of him, so
that his entire weight rests on his left (female!) leg. His arms hang down at
the sides of his body; his hands are empty. He wears the stiff, black conical
hat of a 19th century Javanese dignitary. But neither the hat nor the stiff
collar of his grayish-blue coat is ornamented. That shows that the person is
not a high official or important dignitary. The upper left pocket of his coat,
with six buttons, apparently keeps a pocket watch. At least a chain comes out
of this pocket and drops down to the second button. Underneath his coat he
wears a white shirt, of which a small strip is seen near the collar and the
wrists. That makes a nice optical separation between the head and the body and
again between the arms and the hands. The only other garment the gentleman
wears is a patterned brown batik sarong, which drapes, in traditional male
style, in a long fold down the front of the lower part of his body. The pattern
of the batik sarong is a so-called kawung pattern, stylized seeds of the areca
palm. During the 19th century this pattern was reserved for the relatives of
the sultan of Yogyakarta, reserved for all persons that were eligible for
carrying the title of Raden Mas or Raden (Justine Boow, Symbol and Status in
Javanese Batik, Nedlands, University of Western Australia, 1988, p. 71). The
kris, which sticks in the back side of the sarong, is visible only partially on
the right side of the man’s right upper arm. He wears neither shoes nor sandals
but stands barefoot. The widely-spread toes of the man testify that he is used
to walking without shoes.

To the right of the male figure stands a gentle woman who holds onto the
right elbow of the man with her left hand. This is, in the context of Javanese
etiquette, a rather intimate way of touching someone. It is not clear that the
woman holds on for support, she might as well support or lead the man. If the
man is, as I mentioned before, already deceased, then the woman might take the
leading position. Her right hand holds a piece of white cloth with a key
attached to it. The index, ring and little finger of her right hand are
decorated with golden rings. The same is the case with the index and little
finger of her left hand. The female figure, just as the male, faces the
spectator. But contrary to the man she looks straight into the eyes of the
spectator. Her beautiful face shows a sad expression. Her right eye is a bit
larger than the left one; both ears are adorned with traditional golden
Javanese earrings. Her blue jacket of Chinese style is buttoned up to the neck
and additionally held together by a diamond brooch. The jacket reaches down to
her hip joints and, besides a brown sarong,
is the only garment we can see. The dark and light brown sarong is
batiked with diagonal running lozenges of a flower-and-seed motif which comes
together to form patterns of eight-folded flowers. Up to now I have not yet
succeeded in identifying the name or the social importance of that pattern. The
woman is barefoot as well, but her toes are not as wide-apart as those of her
husband.

The brown background of the painting is totally flat and does not
show any details. Only the lower fifth
is divided from the rest by a horizontal line which marks the edge of the
floor. The flatness of the painting and the absence of depth and space create
some reminiscences about traditional Javanese paintings on the one hand, and
makes it look amazingly modern on the other hand. The sad and restrained
expression of the couple, which creates a strange distance between the
spectator and the painting, intensifies this impression. It is an unique piece
of art, totally beyond the style of the 1830's and never repeated by Raden
Saleh or anyone else.

The motif

Because of the strange impression the painting creates, its authenticity
remained not unchallenged in Indonesia. The authorship of Raden Saleh was cast
in doubt recently. The signature was called a fraud. Some observers attributed
the painting to a certain Raden Salip. I don’t know anything about the reasons
the critics had and whether their remarks are justified by professional
knowledge or just an expression of envy. A Javanese painter by the name of
Raden Salip never came across my eyes. I
never heard or read about an artist of that name. But the name of Raden Salip
reminds me of the name of the young Raden Saleh, which was Sarip Saleh. Even
after he had moved to Holland people called him by that name. The word sarip or
salip is the Javanese form of the Arabic title sharif. A sharif is a person who
stands in the line of direct descent from the Prophet. Maybe the painter Raden
Salip is a result of a certain confusion created by the two names of Raden
Saleh. As far as I know Raden Saleh never had a student by the name of Salip.
In fact we know only about two students of his who practiced the art of
painting with any consequence: Raden Koesoema di Brata and Raden Mangkoe
Mihardjo. He certainly must have instructed more young aspiring artists then
just those two. But so far we do not know any other names. By the way Raden
Saleh asked the government to give a scholarship to his two most talented
students, Raden Koesoema di Brata and Raden Mangkoe Mihardjo, in order to send
them to Europe. But the governor of the East Indies refused to do so. It seems
that one Raden Saleh meant trouble enough for the Dutch administration (see:
Algemeen Dagblad van Nederlandsch Indie, 21.3.1876). Academic painters, and only
such a one can be regarded as the author of the portrait in question, were a
rare species in the Netherlands East Indies. Besides Raden Saleh there was just
Jan Daniel Beynon. An academically trained painter by the name of Raden Salip
never existed in the very thin volume of Javanese art history of the 19th
century.

To establish without doubt the authorship of Raden Saleh, three question
have to be answered: 1. When was the portrait painted? 2. Who could be the
couple represented in the portrait? 3. Who else, if not Raden Saleh, could be
the painter?

1.When was the
portrait painted?

Renate Kant, who restored the painting in question, established without
doubt that the canvas is of 19th century Dutch origin, woven in one piece
(which was not possible in Java of those days). The undercoat, the paint and
the varnish are as well identified as materials of the last century. The
pitiful condition of the painting before restoration is proof enough to rule
out any doubt that the portrait was not produced during the last 50 years. For
better details on the technical aspects, refer to the article of Renate Kant in
this issue.

If we accept the signature of the painting, and there is no reason to
doubt it, then we accept also that the double portrait was painted in The
Hague, since Raden Saleh lived in 1837 in that city .

2. The identity of
the couple on the double portrait

If the double portrait was painted in The Hague in 1837 - as the
signature says - then it cannot be a portrait painted from nature. In that time,
besides Raden Saleh, only one other Javanese lived in Holland. This was Raden
Ngabehi Poespa Wi­ Laga, a Javanese who
arrived together with J.A. Palm of the Dutch Bible Society in 1835 in the
Netherlands. Raden Ngabehi Poespa Wi Laga lived in Zoonen near Haarlem where he
was engaged in supervising the production of letters in Javanese script, which
was commissioned by the Dutch Bible Society. The Javanese letters were needed
to print the Bible in Javanese language. Besides Raden Ngabehi Poespa Wi Laga
and Raden Saleh Bustaman bin Yahya no other Javanese male who could have served
as a model was present in Holland during the 1830's. And there was certainly no
Javanese woman of any reputation in Europe during that time. The first Javanese
woman of rank (and as such the person on the portrait has to be classified) who
traveled to Europe was Raden Saleh’s second wife Raden Ayu Danudiredjo. She
accompanied the aging painter during his second and last journey through the
continent from 1875 to 1879. A local Batavian newspaper wrote on the occasion
of Raden Saleh’s departure: “As a
curiosity we have to add that the wife of Raden Saleh will be the first
Javanese woman of rank visiting Europe” (Javabode May 19, 1875). In 1837 no
Javanese woman, besides some house servants and prostitutes, lived in the
Netherlands.

That makes it pretty clear that the double-portrait was not painted
from nature but in recollection or in
remembrance of a couple that Raden Saleh was familiar with back in his
homeland. Thus again the question arises: who is the couple on the portrait?

If somebody paints a rather moving
portrait of remembrance of a couple of his race, then he must have a good
reason for it. I believe the reason was homesickness and the couple on the
painting is nobody else but Raden Saleh’s parents. Raden Saleh recreated for
himself, to survive the pain of separation, the life-size presence of his
parents, Sayid Husen bin Alwi bin Awal and Raden Ayu Sarif Husen bin Alwi bin
Awal.

I mentioned already that the gentleman of the double portrait was most
probably no longer alive by the time the work was made. There is a high
probability that Sayid Husen bin Alwi bin Awal was not alive any longer at this
time. We do not know exactly when he died, but it is certain that in 1843 he
had already passed away. In this year his wife, Raden Ayu Sarif Husen bin Alwi
bin Awal, wrote a letter to the Dutch resident in Semarang in which she pleaded
that her son should be sent back to Java. If the father would still have been
alive, certainly he would have written the letter. Another indication of his
death is the key in the right hand of the woman. It is not quite sure what that
symbol really means. Does it indicate that the widow holds the “key position”
in the house, the sole responsibility for the family? Or does the key point to
the fact that the woman is the “juru kunci”, the guard of the key, to the holy
grave of Kyai Bustaman, the common grandfather of Raden Saleh’s parents. Kyai
Bustaman’s grave in Bergota, Terboyo in Semarang was for a long time a
“kramat”, a place abundant with supernatural power. Whether the possible role
as “juru kunci” was inherited by the Raden Ayu from her husband or from her
father (a former hoofd-penghulu - highest Islamic functionary- of Semarang) is
not clear.

In all probability Raden Saleh’s father died while Saleh was still a
child. After all he was raised by his uncle Raden Adipati Surohadimenggolo,
Regent of Semarang. Raden Saleh certainly meant Surohadimenggolo when he told
his German friend, Count Arthur von Mensdorff, a number of anecdotes about his
scholarly father (see: Friedrich
Hofmann, “Ein Prinz und Maler Indiens”, Gartenlaube 25, 1864). H.J. De Graaf
in his article “Het Semerangse Geslacht Bustaman in de 18e en 19e Eeuw:
Afkomst en Jeugd van Raden Saleh” (Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en
Volkenkunde, (BKI) Bd. 135, No.2/3 (1979), pp. 252-281) seems to assume as well
that Raden Saleh’s father died rather early. Saleh himself never mentions his
father nor his mother nor any sisters or brothers in his letters, he only talks
about cousins.

All things considered, the hypothesis that the homesick Raden Saleh
painted in 1837 a life-size portrait of his parents gives an answer to most of the questions we
are faced with by studying this work. The fact that the painting was never
mentioned in any document or publication supports that assumption. He regarded
it as a personal “pusaka”, an intimate shrine, an icon which was not meant for
public curiosity.

3. Who else if not
Raden Saleh could be the painter of the “Javanese Couple”?

During the 19th century no Javanese painter - besides Saleh- had the
technical skill to produce a painting of that quality. The only other
academically trained artist in 19th century Batavia, Daniel Beynon, was
self-confident enough not to sign his paintings with the signature of Raden
Saleh. Up to now fake paintings of Raden Saleh were not known. Until recently
the prices for his paintings were rather low. He only was known to insiders and
nobody thought about forging a Raden Saleh.

Raden Saleh in 1837

In 1837 Raden Saleh was already a reputed portrait-painter in The Hague.
He had finished a large number of orders and government commissions. In that
year he finished, as far as I know, at least four portraits and a large
triple-portrait. The portraits of J.C.Scholten van Oud Haarlem, Richard
Leeuwenhart van den Bosch, Henry Martin and Hendrik Hentzepeter. We know where
the three last mentioned paintings are kept. The portrait of the young R.L. van
den Bosch is part of the Dr. J.H.O. Graf van den Bosch collection in Amersfort,
the portrait of the lion-tamer Henry Martin hangs in the Historical Museum of
Rotterdam and the portrait of the merchant Hendrik Hentzepeter is part of the
collection of the Museum van den Tropen in Amsterdam. These three portraits are
very different from our double-portrait. They are carried out in the
conventional Dutch style of the time - dark backgrounds and light faces. Almost
no color and no expression. But all paintings are signed and a comparison of these
signatures with the signature on the double portrait should be able to
determine the time and the place where our portrait, without any doubt, was
painted .

There seems to be a much closer connection between the double portrait of
the Javanese couple and the triple portrait of General Verveer and the two
young Ashanti princes Aquasi Boachi and Kwame Poko, which was painted in 1837
as well. This painting was about the same size as the double portrait and it
was painted for a similar reason. It was to be sent to the father, e.g., uncle
of the two young princes, the Ashantehene Kwakudua II, to relieve his grief
about his far away children. Saleh received Dfl 900.- for that government
commission, a considerably good payment. The painting was taken to the Dutch
fort Elmina on the Goldcoast, but never reached Kumase, the royal city of the
Ashanti. The canvas was too large to be carried overland, the pathways through
the savanna and woodlands were too small. The triple portrait finally rotted
away in the residence of the governor of Elmina. By the year 1864 it was just a
piece of rotten material. So unfortunately, the most important piece to compare
our double portrait with was lost on the west coast of Africa.

Summary

Considering all the arguments we have to concede that any other
authorship but Raden Saleh’s is inconceivable. The double portrait is a work of
Raden Saleh and represents most probably his parents. He painted it in cold and
lonely The Hague and used it as an icon, as a magical weapon against the recurring
feelings of longing for his beloved parents back in Java. How it survived and
made its way back to Java is one of those wonders we have to be grateful about.
The “Javanese Couple” is a singular work of Raden Saleh. It is incredibly
strong in its expression and modern in its composition. It is a true
masterpiece.

On Friday, April 23, 1880, at 13:00 o’clock, the celebrated Javanese
painter Raden Saleh died1 from a
thrombosis attack at his residence in the mountain town of Bogor2 then also
known by its Dutch name as Buitenzorg, about 60 kilometers south of Jakarta,
then more known as Batavia.

On Sunday morning, the funeral procession left his stately
residence, located near the palace of
the Governor General or the Netherlands-Indies, to carry the remains for the
burial to Kampung Empang, at the outskirts of the town.

A correspondent of the Java Bode daily
wrote the following eye witness report of the procession (original in Malay) :

The body of Raden Saleh was accompanied by many government functionaries,
the Resident, Mr. Boetmy and other landowners, hajis, a troupe of Muslims of
high as well as low rank and Javanese persons, including the Javanese
youngsters of the Agricultural School : all of them accompanied the deceased to
the burial place. Islamic religious functionaries (penghulu) and teachers
(kyai), in addition to other religiously devoted individuals, also participated
in the procession. Throughout the route these Muslim and Javanese, particularly
those who were religiously inclined, chanted with sorrowful voices : “There is
only one God and Muhammad is his prophet.” The body was carried by four
Javanese government functionaries. Behind the deceased a sergeant walked while
holding a silver plate (manampan). On the plate were five honorary medals which
Raden Saleh acquired during his life-time from a number of kingdoms . . . .

Thus, the funeral ceremony was attended by representatives from
practically all sectors and levels of the colonial community in Bogor.

Raden Saleh had achieved greatness as the first indigenous painter in the
Indonesian archipelago to have mastered the techniques of European art painting
and to have acquired recognition from the mighty protectors and benefactors of
the fine arts in nineteenth century Europe.

His greatness as a painter, however, has overshadowed some of his other
meritorious accomplishments, particularly his accomplishments in the scientific
field, an aspect which will be given some more attention in the present
preliminary study.

Furthermore, his greatness as a painter, albeit a painter with a
definitely European style, has compelled some present day Indonesians to claim
him not only as a great painter but as an Indonesian painter with a pronounced
nationalist if not distinct radical bent,[4]
a characterization which, although attractive in present-day nationalist
conscious Indonesia, is not at all in accordance with the relevant historical
facts. This newly created myth will be shown to have no sustaining basis and
therefore should be forcefully rejected.

The Aristocrat

Raden Saleh was born at Terboyo in the area of Semarang, Central Java, in
about 1814, a date presumably given by Saleh himself.[5]

His father was Sayid Hoeseen bin Alwi bin Awal and his mother Mas Adjeng
Zarip Hoeseen.[6]
Both parents were grandchildren of Kyai Ngabehi Kertoboso Boestam (1681-1759),
Under-Regent of Terboyo and founder of the now extensive Bustaman family of
regents, patihs, and other prominent members of the aristocratic priyayi class.

Kertoboso Boestam, a loyal, effective translator and interpreter for the
Dutch East Indian Company, was granted a large piece of land at Terboyo by the
Company in appreciation of his unusual services, particularly during the
difficult period of armed conflict between the Susuhunan, together with the
Chinese, and the Dutch. When practically all Javanese chiefs and other
indigenous functionaries took the side of the Susuhunan and the Chineses
rebels, Kertoboso Boestam remained loyal to the Company. In 1747 the Susuhunan
lost and had to relinquish the entire northern coastal areas of Java, including
Semarang area, to the Dutch Company. The appreciative Dutch colonial Government,
acting on behalf fo the Company, also elevated one of Kertoboso Boestam’s ten
offsprings as Regent of Semarang and two other sons respectively as Regent of
Lasem and Regent of Batang. A son of the Regent of Batang and therefore a
grandson of Kertoboso Boestam was appointed Regent of Pekalongan.[7]
In this manner the Boestaman family was raised by the Dutch in social status to
the highest attainable level in the northern coastal area of Java.

The father of Raden Saleh was a son of the ninth offspring of Kertoboso
Boestam - a daughter named Nyai Sayid Alwi bin Awal ;bin Yahya - and the mother
a daughter of the seventh offspring - a son named Kyai Haji Agoeng Mohammad
Boestam, Chief Penghulu of Semarang.

Apparently Saleh spent his childhood at the home of Kyai Adipati Soero
Menggolo, Regent of Semarang at Terboyo until 1822. The Regent was an uncle of
Saleh, being the son of the seventh offspring of Saleh’s great-grand-father,
the afore-mentioned Kyai Ngabehi Kertoboso Boestam. The Regent was a very
knowledgeable and progressive man. He was, among others, a member of the small
but exclusive Javaansch Weldadig Genootschap, a philanthropic society which was
established in 1816. In 1822 the society had only 21 members, consisting of
Dutch high officials, including Baron van der Capellen - then Governor General
of the Netherlands Indies - who ex officio was also the society’s Protector and
his wife, prominent clergymen, businessmen, and three indigenous individuals,
namely Panembahan Noto Kusumo of Sumenep, Regent Adimenggolo of Semarang an,
and Raden Mas Saleh.[8]
President of the society was the Roman Catholic priest Philippus Wedding, while
the Secretary was J. van der Vinne, School Inspector and member of the
Commission of Education for Batavia and its surrounding areas.[9]
The Regent seemed to have encouraged his nephew’s keen interest in drawing and
in European culture.

It is not quite clear when and in what manner Saleh, still as a small
boy, left Semarang for West Java. It is only known that in one way or other the
Belgian art painter Antoine Auguste Joseph Paijen (1792-1853), who arrived in
Batavia in 1817, recognized Saleh’s artistic gift and, with the consent of the boy’s family,
took him to Cianjur, then capital of the Residency of the Preanger Regencies.[10]
Most probably, the event ocurred in 1822 when Lieut.-Colonel Jonkheer Robert
Lieve Jasper van der Capellen (1784-1860), the Resident in Cianjur and younger
brother of Governor General Baron van der Capellen,[11]
had just opened a small school for native youngsters in a building used for
religious services by Ambonese Christians. The liberal minded aristocratic
Resident had appointed a haji as master of the school to attract support from
the indigenous families. The Regent of Cianjur and the First Native Writer were
assigned to supervise the daily activities at the school, while a Dutch
official at the Office of the Resident, engaged in the study of native
languages, was assigned to act as overall supervisor of the school. Instruction
covered reading and writing Malay in both Javanese and Roman script, elementary
arithmetic, and the Arabic script.[12]
Most probably, Paijen had placed Saleh - or Sarib Saleh as he called himself -
at this particular school; there were no other schools in Cianjur at that time.

Paijen himself lived in Bogor, between Cianjur and Batavia. He was
attached as government art painter to Professor C.G.C. Reinwardt, Director of
Agriculture, Arts and Sciences and founder of the now famous Bogor Botanical
Garden.

Apparently, either through the agency of the Resident of Cianjur or of
Paijen, Saleh also caught the attention of the Governor General, Godert
Alexander Gerard Philip Baron van der Capellen (1778-1848), a scholarly
oriented aristocrat and statesman whowas very much interested in promoting the study
of indigenous languages and cultures. Baron van der Capellen was, of course,
aso very active in re-astablishing Durch colonial rule in various areas of the
Indonesian archipelago after the British froces left the scene.[13]

After his stay in Cianjur, Saleh stayed with Paijen in Bogor. Paijen gave
the boy instruction in drawing and painting. The painter also took the boy with
him on some fo his journeys to make drawings and lithos of a diversity of
natural objects for Professor Reinwardt’s scientific investigations.[14]

Paijen returned to Europe in the beginning of 1825.[15]
Saleh, then, became a member of the household of the Belgian Jean Baptiste de
Linge and his wife, Colette Therese Verrue, in Batavia [16]
De Linge was an accountant at the General Directorate of Finance where, in
1828, he became Inspector of Finance. When at the end of 1829 de Linge was
instructed by Commissioner General du Bus de Gesignies to make the journey to
Holland in order to report on the financial state of the colony to the King,
Saleh went together with de Linge and his family on board the ship ‘Pieter en
Karel’.[17]

Very likely, the cost of Saleh’s travel was born by the Javaansch
Weldadig Genootschap, the philanthropic society which, in 1829, was managed by
the businessman John Davidson in Semarang and which still had Kiai Adipati
Soero Adimenggolo, Saleh’s uncle, as one of its members and J. van der Vinne as
the society’s Secretary. Former Resident van der Capellen, since 1827
recognized as a Baron, was also still a member of the society’s managing
commission.[18]

When de Linge was scheduled to return to Batavia, Saleh asked for
permission to stay for a longer period in Holland in order to learn more. He
submitted a request to the Minister of Waterworks, National Industry, and
Colonial Affairs, Jhr. Mr. G.G. Clifford, for Government financial support. The
Minister responded by writing a memorandum about Raden Saleh to the King,
advising die King to permit Saleh to stay in Holland for two years at the
expense of the colonial treasury. F 4000 would be needed to meet the cost.[19]

The painter Paijen, who upon returning to Holland had been appointed
instructor of drawing at the Marine Institute at Medemblik, also wrote a strong
letter of recommendation for his ‘ancien eleve’, former pupil, whom he had the
opportunity to see again in Holland.[20]

King William I of North Netherlands agreed with the advise of his
Minister and approved the proposed expenditure for Saleh’s further education.
Saleh became ‘Child of State’ under the immediate supervision of Jean Chretien
Baud (1789-1859), Director of East Indian Colonial Affairs and former General
Secretary of the colonial Government in Batavia until he returned to Holland
in1821.[21]
Baud, a man with a large familiy, gave Saleh his personal sympathetic
attention.

Saleh was accomodated in the house of J.W. Nibbelink, a government
functionary who lived at the Boschkant, later to become the Prinsessegracht -
corner of the Herengracht, The Hague.[22]

Arrangements were immediately made to enable the young man to learn Dutch
; he got language instruction from a teacher named J. Verheys. Arrangements
were also made to enable him to study arithmetic from the teacher Ten
Brummeler.[23]
His study in drawing and painting will be discussed in a later part of this
essay.

The rather independent minded Saleh stayed with the elderly Nibbelink
only for a year or so, for in December 1832 he is known to live elsewhere ; he
had rented a room at the Hoogstraat and obtained his midday meals from a cook.
From the receipts of his purchases, now kept at the Royal General State
Archives, it is known that Raden Saleh wore ‘a super fine Russion green winter
coat, a flowery vest, a fine olive colored jacket and a fine colored long
trousers and similar vest ; furthermore, English shirts with batist jabots,
which in their pleatet fall were a beautiful part of a gentleman’s dress in
that period.’[24]

In his own homeland in the archipelago, Saleh already moved in the upper
circles of both indigenous and colonial society, the latter where scions of
Dutch aristocratic families, like Baron van der Capellen, held sway. In Holland
he continued, and intensified, his association with members of the Dutch
aristocracy and prominent burgher families. Saleh painted portraits of several
of these aristocrats and burghers, at their request as well as at his own
initiative as a token of appreciation and deep gratitude for the friendship
they bestowed upon him.

Saleh extendet his association with aristocratic friends and
acquaintances also beyond the boundaries of the kingdom of the Netherlands
when, in 1839, he was given the opportunity to make a study tour to a number of
countries in Europe, such as Germany, Austria, Italy, and France, afterwards to
settle in Dresden for some time. In Dresden he associated himself with King
Friedrich August II of Saxony. He also stayed at Coburg, Gotha and Paris for a
considerable time.

The Grand Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, first Ernest I (1784-1844) and then,
since 1844, Ernest II (1818-1893), virtually assumed the responsibility as the
painter’s principle patron and close friend.[25]

Grand Duke Ernest II was a brother of Prince Albert, Consort of Queen
Victoria fo England, while his father’s sister Victoria - the mother of Queen
Victoria - was the wife of the Duke of Kent.[26]
These fortunate affiliations provided Saleh with the opportunity to get
acquainted with members of the English ruling family who commissioned him to
paint several paintings. Saleh painted, among others, a protrait of Grand Duke
Ernest I and his sister, the Duchess of Kent.[27]
The Prince Consort of England himself commissioned Saleh to paint two subjects
relating to Javanese life and scenery.[28]

The painter was not a high ranking aristocrat in his own homeland, Java ;
nevertheless, he was frequently introduced at the various courts and elsewhere
in Europe as a Javanese Prince, 'le prince javanais', an image he did not
attempt to correct. On the contrary, he liked to appear in full ornate, in a
costume partly Javanese and partly self created, which gave him a strikingly
handsome appearance as obviously an Oriental of high birth.

At the end of 1844, when Saleh's frequently renewed Dutch government
fellowship was again due to expire, the painter left Coburg for The Hague to
present the King, now William II (1792-1849), with a large painting abd to
discuss his own future. It was winter time and the roads werre covered by
frost. In Cologne Saleh took the train to Antwerpen (Anvers), where he stayed
for one day. Then, he continued his journey to Brussels and on to The Hague
through Breda.[29]

In Holland he received several letters from his relatives in Java who
urged him to return home. He replied to them that he in­tended to stay in
Europe for some more years since he felt he had not acquired all that he felt
he ought to acquire in this fascinating part of the world.[30]

At his audience with the King, a lover of the fine arts, he presented His
Majesty with a large painting depicting a struggle between two lions engaged in
a tremendous contest with a bull. When the painter took leave, the King shook his
hands warmly and awarded him with the Knighthood of the Order of the Oaken
Crown (Eikenkroon), an event which occurred on December 20, 1844.[31]
The Order of the Oaken Crown was established by the King in his capacity as
Grand Duke of Luxemburg three years earlier to award persons for civilian and
military services and for outstanding artists.[32]
Saleh regarded the award as a rare great honor for a Javanese.

Raden Saleh did not remain in Holland for a long period. On January 1,
1845, he left The Hague, this time to go to Paris where he wanted to study the
works of the great masters in painting and to learn French, the language of the
European aristocracy. In Antwerpen he again stayed for one day, in Brussels for
four days and in Turnaij, where he met an old acquaintance from Java, for three
days. Finally he arrived in Paris where he took up lodging in a small but nice
guesthouse.[33]
He was fascinated by what he called Weltstadt although it was not easy for him
to acquire friends in the first weeks of his stay in Paris in spite of the fact
that, as he observed, people were interested in his dark skin color in
combination with his decorated extraordinary dress. Among the vast number of
people it was a rare occasion, indeed, to come across an acquaintance, let alone
a friend, a situation which he nostalgically compared with the situation in the
friendly and romantic towns of Coburg and Gotha.[34]

The Dutch ambassador was very helpful and endeavored to get him
introduced to the French King, Louis Philippe. Saleh did his utmost to prepare
himself for the audience with the bourgois-like King by concentrating his
attention on the study of the French language. King Louis Philippe, in the
company of his family, received Raden Saleh in audience on May 1, 1845,[35]
an event which paved him the way to getting accepted by the Parisian
aristocracy. The King informed the Javanese painter that he was acquainted with
the fact that Saleh had stayed at the court of the Grand Duke of
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha for quite a long time.[36]

While in Paris, Saleh also had the opportunity to attend cultural soirees
and dancing parties held at the various salons of the aristocracy. The Petit courier des dames of March 5,
1845 contains a description of such a resplendant party, given by Madame de la
P . . . ., and attended by Raden Saleh, dressed in an elegant, exquisite
costume. Present were such luminaries of the artistic and literary world as the
independent minded journalist J.-B. Alphonse Karr, the celebrated author
Alexandre Dumas, the poet novelist, drama critique and historian Hippolyte
Lucas, Etienne Arago, Madame Melanie Walder and the beautiful Comtesse de
Renneville, all attired in appropriate, picturesque and gay costumes for the
lively waltzes and mazurkas.[37]

The painter lived in style and even acquired his own personal valet. The
valet, named Cobellie, was brought from Coburg to Paris. Unfortunately the
servant proved to be far from orderly and was neither faithful nor trustworthy.
In a letter to the Grand Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Saleh complained that the
servant lacked any sense of obedience so that neither good nor harsh words
could move him to do what he was asked to do.[38]
Consequently, after a few days of service, the servant was sent back to Coburg
and Saleh had to find himself a new servant, a social requisite for a true
aristocrat.

Saleh had his own attelier, located at Allee de Veuves No. 31, a street
which begins in front of the Elysee Bourbon on the Champs Elysees across the
boulevard, within walking distance from Arc de Triomph. The attelier was
surrounded by a small garden and hat a patch of ground in front of it to enable
horses to be brought in.[39]

At the end of 1847, Saleh made a brief visit to Dresden to see one of his
close friends, Major von Serre, who was reported to be seriously ill. On this
occasion he did not see the Grand Duke, Ernest II, because he had to hurry back
to Paris where he had to finish three paintings which he promised would be
finished and delivered on February 20, 1848. Nevertheless, while in Dresden, he
met Baron von Griesheim who, on behalf of the Grand Duke, invited the painter
to go with him to Gotha, an invitation which brought tears to Saleh’s eyes, the
painter being much affected by this gesture of true friendship.[40]
But he still had to decline the invitation to enable him to return to Paris as
soon as possible.

Saleh kept correspondence with the Grand Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha and
other exalted persons outside the French capital. In his letters to the Grand
Duke, Saleh called his German patron ‘Koenigliche Hoheit. Sehr verehrter
Freund,’ a phrase which is indicative of the nature of their social
relationship, as is also the phrase he used to sign his letters, ‘Mit
herzlichen Gruessen. Eurer Koeniglichen Hoheit ergebenster Freund.’

When the now famous February revolution, which caused King Louis Philippe
and his family to flee from their homeland and which led to political
repercussions elsewhere in Europe, broke out in Paris, Saleh was present on the
scene,[41]
but did not share his sympathy with the rebels. He was continuously on the side
of the establishment. In a New Year message to the Grand Duke of
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Saleh wished him - “der Sonnenschein meines Lebens” - his
most obedient and warmest wishes, including the wish that ‘the unfortunate
political clouds would be cleared up.”

Already in January 1848 Saleh expressed his intention to go to Holland in
June of the same year to present the King with a painting and to discuss his
impending journey home to Java.[42]
A month later he indicated his wish to take leave from the Grand Duke and to
express again his deep gratitude to his august patron, either in Coburg or in
Gotha, in the beginning of August before he would embark on his long journey to
Java.[43]

Saleh did not return to Holland before 1850. King William III, who was
instituted as King of the Nederlands in the Spring of 1849, awarded Saleh with
the distinguished official title of ‘the King’s Painter’, probably not only in
recognition of his extraordinary accomplishments as a painter but also to help
facilitate the painter’s re-integration among his social hierarchy conscious
fellow Javanese in his homeland, a problem which had been the deep concern of
the various Dutch functionaries who were responsible for making decisions with
respect to the painter whenever they were faced with the problem of his return
to Java.

(to be continued)

Raden Saleh: One Javanese - Two Personalities

An Example of the Disastrous
Effects of Dutch Language Policy in 19th Century Java

Werner
Kraus

One of the privileges of power is to force people to speak your language.
Another privilege of power is to restrain people from talking to you in your
own language. Both privileges have been widely used throughout history.
Certainly they were used by the different colonial powers.

The French colonialists, confident of their own cultural superiority,
stuck to the first privilege. They more or less forced their subjects to speek
French. The Dutch, as a small nation perhaps not as self­assured, restricted
the use of their language in their East-Indian possessions at least until the
end of the 19th century. "Natives" (inlanders) were not allowed to
learn Dutch or even address a Dutchman in his own language. Charles Kinloch
brought it to the point in his "Rambles in Java and the Straits in
1852": "European languages, as also European history, are carefully
excluded from (...) all the native schools, from an apprehension (...) that
such knowledge might possibly prove too dangerous a weapon in the hands of the
natives."[44]
Another source, the German author Therese von Lützow, wife of the military
commander of East Java, is even more outspoken: “All Malays who aquire European
knowledge, are of no use for Java and they are, because of there liberal ideas,
not allowed to return to the island. ... because a thinking man is a horror to
the Dutch who demand blind submission”.[45]

That language served as a crucial means of power and status, was of
course not only known to European colonialists, but to other authorities as
well. The Javanese language with its different speech levels is a striking
example for this. And it is likely that Dipanegara's (1785-1855) order during
the Java War, that all his European prisoners should speak to their captors in
high Javanese, was more than a mere reaction to the contemporary Dutch language
policies. More probably it was an expression of Javanese feelings of cultural
superiority. It was certainly a statement of his own concept of power
(kasektèn). In any case, after the tables were turned on him and he was tricked
into captivity by the Dutch, Dipanegara always refused to accept Malay as a
medium of communication throughout his negotiations and subsequent exile, since
he regarded Malay as the "language of chickens (basa pitik) which no ruler
in Java wished to listen to".[46]
He was obviously referring to the so-called "dienstmaleisch" or
"brabbel-Maleisch", the language used by Dutch officials when
addressing their indigenous bureaucratic associates.[47]
This sort of Malay, which must have been a horror to indigenous ears, even found
its way into early grammars and phrasebooks. The German general Friedrich von
Gagern (1794-1848), who travelled through Java between 1844 and 1846, commented
on this in his diary: "A. Schleiermachers grammar, published in Darmstadt,
(...) gives me a lot of joy. The one written by Roorda van Eisinga , (...), is
meant for officers who have to prepare themselves for their dealings with their
future Javanese boys and housekeepers" [48]

Throughout the nineteenth century, the vast majority of Dutch officals
could not accept that natives, no matter how well educated they were, should
talk to them in Dutch. Raden Ajeng Kartini (1879-1904) writes in one of her
letters rather sarcastically: "Why do many Hollanders find it unpleasant
to converse with us in their own language? Oh yes, now I understand; Dutch is
too beautiful to be spoken by a brown mouth." [49]
It took two administrative attempts by the colonial authorities to break down
the wall around the Dutch language built up so assiduously by Dutch offical
prejudice, one in 1890, another in 1906.[50]
Both were published in the Bijblad op het Staatsblad van Nederlandsch-Indie.
This "exclusive wall" was in the first hand not built by deliberate
colonial policies, but by the common racist attitudes of ordinary Dutch
officials. But they didn't go, as John Hoffman has pointed out, unchallenged by
some of their more liberal-minded colleagues.[51]

The discriminatory use of languages is hardly ever mentioned in
nineteenth-century Dutch texts. In the four volumes of “Java. Geographisch,
Ethnologisch, Historisch.” by P. J. Veth, Dutch language politics is talked
about in two sentences only: "Half by instinct, half by design the Dutch
opposed the use of their language, even when spoken by high native officials.
The opinion that a Javanese is not entitled to talk to a Dutchman, let alone a
Dutch colonial offical, in Dutch is now slowly passing away."[52]

English and German writers were usually much more struck by Dutch
language policies. For example, J.W.B.Money, a Calcutta solicitor, who spent a
long holiday with his wife in Java in 1857, gave some striking examples of the
way this policy worked in practice. In his book
"Java, or how to manage a colony", he writes: "for the
(...) purpose of upholding European prestige, Dutch opinion discourages the
Native use of any but Oriental languages. During the whole of my stay in Java
(...) I only met one Native who could speak any European tongue (...). (He) was
a Javanese of high family who had been in Europe, and who, at Pa­ris, had
become a first rate artist. (...) He spoke English, French and German well, and
Dutch probably as well as the languages in which I was competent to gauge his
efficiency. He told me that whenever he spoke any European language to a
Dutchman, privately or official, he was almost always answered in Malay or
Javanese".[53]
Money doesn't give us the name of this Javanese, but it is clear that Raden
Saleh was meant.

Raden Saleh (1811-1880)[54],
a unique individual in the Javanese society of his days, was a most
accomplished painter and a cosmopolitan socialité. In the words of Charlotte
Canning, Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Victoria, he was "(...) a regular German
Dandy with the most Prussian manners".[55]
Saleh's artistic gift was first recognized by the Belgian painter Antoine
Auguste Joseph Payen (1792-1853), who gave him his first lessons in drawing.[56]
After he had spent a couple of years in a small school for native youngsters in
Cianjur, he was taken to Batavia and accompanying the Inspector of Finance,
Jean Baptist de Linge, for Europe in 1829. Dutch accounts usually state that
Raden Saleh was taken along to help de Linge polish his Malay and Javanese
language skills. Later in Dresden Saleh himself insisted, that he was taken as
a hostage to Europe.[57]
There might by some truth in his allegation since he was a nephew of Bupati of
Semarang, who's family was involved in Dipanagara's rebellion. More probably
his stay in Europe was a lucky chance which he was clever enough to grasp. In
The Hague he received instructions in Dutch, arithmetic and, most importantly,
in portrait and landscape painting. His most influencial teachers were the
celebrated portrait painter Cornelis Kruseman (1797-1857) and the landscape
painter Andreas Schelfhout (1787-1870).[58]
In 1839, after the Dutch Government didn't know anymore what to do with this
independent minded young Javanese, who not only produced a never ending list of
unpaid tailor bills but, to the dismay of his Dutch mentors, started a number
of love affairs with white Dutch women as well. Therefore, he was sent on a
study-trip through Europe in 1839, which took him to Dresden (1839-1844) and
Paris (1845-1851).[59]

In 1852 he arrived back in Batavia and started a career as a portrait and
landscape painter. But the colonial situation was not supportive for an artist,
especially not for a native one. In Dresden and Paris he was introduced into
the intellectual and elite circles, conversed with aristocrats and famous
artists in Dutch, German, English and French. After he had returned to Java he
was forced to reconcile himself again to the status of a brown second class
citizen. He suffered much from the racist attitudes so prevalent in the
Netherland-Indies of his days. He was, for example, accused on trumped up
charges of being a potential rebel and a Prussian spy and eventually died as a
broken man in 1880.

His experiences will be used here to demonstrate how Dutch language
policies worked in practice at the personal level and how these policies shaped
the paternalistic Dutch view of the "childlike" quality of the native
Javanese.

The basic materials used here will be two sets of letters written by Raden Saleh. The first written between 1841
and 1845 to Jean Chretien Baud (1789-1859), then serving as the Dutch Minister
of the Colonies (1840-1848); the second, penned between 1845 and 1849, was
addressed to the Duke of Sachsen-Coburg and Gotha (1818-1893), a cousin and
brother-in-law of Queen Victoria and one of Saleh's closest friends and
patrons. The first collection consisting of sixteen letters is kept at the
Rijksarchief in The Hague and is written in Malay. The second, written in
German, totals fifteen letters, and is now in the Staatsarchiv in Coburg.

While reading through the two sets of letters, it is striking how the
different facets of Saleh's personality emerge. In his Malay-language letters
Saleh appears as the stereotypical contemporary Javanese known from Dutch
colonial sources. He appears to have no self-confidence, lacks self assurance
and is always on the defensive. At the same time the tone of his letters is
nagging and full of complaints relating to his lack of money and poor living
conditions - he constantly tries to assure Baud that he will strive to be a
diligent and well-behaved student. His personality comes across as rather
simple and child-like.

In his German language letters a totally different personality emerges.
Here we see the cosmopolitan dandy and artist, intellectually and emotionally
already mature, a man who consorts with the European aristocracy on almost
equal terms. He never complains and appears to handle his money problems in a
rational manner. He faces the world as a responsible individual, perfectly in
control of his destiny.

Some examples are revealing here. After arriving in Paris in 1845, he promises Baud that he
will behave well (at this time he was already a man in his thirties!) and stick
to some basic guidelines. He writes: "..satoe perkara, saya mistie radjin,
doea perkara, idoep jang patoet, soepaya bolih ada mampoe kennalan sama orang
jang baik2 dan orang Asal2 ("... first principle, I have to be diligent,
second principle, I have to behave according to my status in order to be able
to meet good and high-ranking people").[60]
Then he explains that Paris is very expensive and that he needs more money:
"Darie itoe saya minta dengan soengoe2 Attie Padoeka bolih toeloeng, dan
kasjian, jang soepaya saya poenya. Radja bolih djadie kasjian pada saja, Satoe
perkara, saja minta barang f. 800, soepaja saja bolih belie apa jang saja
beloem ada, dan djoega ada sadikit wang dalem tangan." ("Because of
this I ask his Excellency with my whole heart to help me and to have mercy on
me. The King should have mercy on me too and send me 800 Guilders. With this
sum I could buy what I'm still lacking and have a little money in my
hands").[61]

In December of the same year he found a studio at No.31 Alleé des Veuves.
Again he begs for money from the Dutch authorities in Holland. In a
contemporary German-language letter to Ernst II, however, where he also asks
for financial support, the tone is entirely different: he writes in his rather
broken German: "Noch ist viel zu besorgen, viel Geld nöthig und die Alte
wohnung zu verlassan. die Miethe der Neuen halbes jahr voraus zu bezahlen, und
die letztere in einen wohnbaren stand zu setzen. unter 100. luis-dors werde ich
damit nicht zu stande kommen. Da nun aber meine Appanage die ich alle 2 Monate
bekom­men, nur aber hinreicht zu dem gewöhnliche Ausgaben. So kann ich
nicht aufeinmal davon diese außerordenliche Aufgabe zu op­fern. Da Niemand kann
ich in dieser Welt als Eu. Königliche Ho­heit meine offenherzigkeit zu
vertrauen schenken. Sie wurden mich daher sehr verbinden, wenn Sie mir diese
100 Luis-dors aufhier bei eine Bangier, anfang januar anweisen wolten. Die
Zurückzahlung soll in folgender Art geschehen. Alle 2 monat 200 franc vom 1ten
Juni künftigen Jahres an bis alles bezahlt ist." (“There is still a lot to get, a lot of money
neccessary to leave the old flat. The rent for the new house has to be paid in
advance for six months and the house needs renovation. This will take more than
100 Louis Dors. My stipendium which is transfered every second month is just
big enough to guarantee my bare survival and there is no chance to finance
these extraordinary expenses. Since I have nobody in this world but your Royal
Highness I would be much obliged if you could send me those 100 Louis Dors to
one of the bankers here by beginning of January. The repayment shall happen
according to the following plan: I'll transfer every second month 200 Francs
starting 1 June next year till the credit is payed up.”)[62]
No begging, no complaining here, but a perfectly rational and normal financial
proposal.

Elsewhere in his letters to Baud, Saleh very often stresses his
diligence: "Darie inie saja poenja keradjinan Toean bolih priksa die
blakang kalie" ("I'm very diligent here and his Excellency can asure
himself by investigating").[63]
and "Toean brangkalie bolih priksa darie saya poenja keradjinan dan
kalakoean, slama ada die sinie siang harie tida ada kapoetoesjan, tjoema kerdja
sadja..." (His Excellency may start an investigation about my diligence
and behaviour. Since I'm here I didn't have a break between morning and
afternoon. All I do is work.").[64] He even tries to excuse a passing love affair
to his mentor Baud: "Dan lagie saya kasjih bertaoe pada Toen, jang doeloe
kapan saja masih ada die Den (Haag) saja kennalan sama satoe parampoean en
sekarang dia dateng die Dresden boeat katemoe sama saja dan saja rasja sendirie
jang inie perkara pigie lain tanah die mana dapet kenalan sama orang jang
Besjar dan baik baik tiada patoet idoep serta nama jang saja bawah atawa idoep
sama parampoean, djadie tentoe nanti ilang saja poenja kahoermatan. Inie
sedikit arie lagie inie parampoean mistie balik kambalie ka tanah
Hollanda", ("And I also would like to report to his Excellency that I
had a girlfriend while I was living in The Hague and that this woman arrived
now in Dresden to meet me. But I feel that it is no good to come to a foreign
place, meet honourable and aristocratic gentlemen and live with a woman that
reminds me of former sins. I might lose my honour. Therefore I'll send this
woman after a short while back to Holland.")[65]

In general in his Malay-language letters Saleh is usually silent about
his emotional situation. The above mentioned love affair is an exception. We
know that he felt intensely lonely and very depressed when he arrived in Paris
in 1845. The impersonal atmosphere of the great metropolis and lack of social
contacts made it very difficult for Saleh. After his six years in Dresden and
Coburg, he had gotten used to a certain social status. But it is only in his
German language letters that he can admit his feelings openly. On May 8th 1845
he writes to Ernst: "...daß mir hier in dieser geräuschvollen Stadt, unter
diesem bunten Gewühl und Treiben das Leben ziemlich einförmig dahin
schleicht.." and: "Hier lebe ich fast immer für mich, denn ich habe
noch wenig oder keine Bekanntschaften gemacht...", (" ... in this
noisy town and among these colourful crowds and all the hustle and bustle my
pace of life is rather monotonous" and "I live almost on my own since
I have made only a few acquaintances.")[66]

In a Malay-language letter to Baud written about two weeks earlier he hid
his emotions writing in a detached fashion: "Nagrie Paris saoepama satoe
Taman jang ada die tengah Doenja dan penoeh dengen segala boengah2 dan boewah
boewahan jang amet haroem dan nikmat rasanja. jang satoe aken hindak menanemkan
lebih darie jang lain; tetapie ini dalem Taman ada djoega oeler bellan jang
aken mendjaga die mana djalan jang ketjil dan jang binkok", ("Paris
is like a garden in the middle of the world which is full with flowers and nice
and fragrant blossoms. One grows better than the other. But in this garden
there are also poisonous snakes which hide where the streets get narrow and
crooked.")[67]
No words here about loneliness or depression.

What is the reason for this very different attitude in these two sets of
letters? Why does Raden Saleh show such differing sides of his personality?
Could the relative position or his relationship to the addressees be
responsible for his different manner? He counted both men to be among his
closest friends. He regarded Baud almost as a father ("Sebap dalem inie
doenya tiada lain jang menjadie saja poenja sobat dan Bapa malinken Padoeka
sadja") and the Duke of Sachsen-Coburg and Gotha was, according to his
letters, the only person in this world he believed in. So why the difference?

My view is, that language and the politics of language are the key here.
Psycho-linguistic studies have shown that language both creates and defines
attitudes and that bilinguals often undergo a shift in personality when they
change language. This change in personality can be, on the one hand, simply a
shift in attitude and behaviour corresponding to a shift in situation or
context independent of language. On the other hand, the language itself, its
structure and syntax and the social environment in which it was learned can
have a deep influence on the speaker.

Raden Saleh grew up in Semarang in an elite and quasi aristocratic
Javanese environment. His mother-tongue was Javanese, which he learned to read
and write in Javanese script.[68]
Malay was probably spoken but not much appreciated in his surroundings. As a
boy Saleh lived with the family of his uncle Kyai Adipati Sura Adi Menggala,
the well known regent of Semarang, who himself was married to a daughter of
Prang Wedana, Mangku Negara I of Surakarta. Sura Adi Menggala as well as his
wife were experts in Javanese literature and certainly communicated in Javanese
within their family.[69]
Saleh must have learned Malay more fluently at the first school for
"natives" which existed in Cianjur between 1822 and (probably) 1826.
Malay was introduced to him in the context of the strict discipline of that
boarding school and as the language that inferiors had to use towards
superiors, in this case the Dutch. For him the use of that language was from the very start not only a means of
communication but a symbol of subordination, hierarchy and power. This pattern
was strongly reinforced by the contemporary Dutch language policy.

During the 10 years he spent in Holland (1829-1839) it is certain that he
learned Dutch very well. Very few of the people he had contact with spoke Malay
and he had to speak Dutch when conversing with high officials and even the
King. But his letters written to Baud from Dresden and Paris were not in Dutch
but in Malay. Even the liberal Baud, who harboured very warm feelings towards
Raden Saleh and the Javanese in general, expected this form of cultural
submission.

When Saleh arrived in Germany in 1839 he tried to lead a new life. He
wanted to be independent, sever his connections with The Hague and was even
prepared to renounce the Dutch Government's financial support. But the
authorities were not willing to let him go. In 1841 the Dutch ambassador in
Vienna, who was asked to search for the lost son, located the painter in
Dresden and demanded that he give an account of himself.[70]

Dresden was a new experience for Saleh. Here in the cultural capital of
Saxony, he was treated as an equal, becoming the friend of leading painters,
art connoisseurs and aristocrats. He began to liberate himself from all the
conventions which had restricted his emotional and artistic growth in Holland.
He was moved by his friendly acceptance and struck by the "...
intellectual intercourse and the friendly and supportive atmosphere which
brings the people here together"[71].
After the turmoil of the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815) the people were longing
for some stability and the Orient and the Orientals were seen as symbols of a
civilization blessed by a contentment with the present moment. Raden Saleh, the
cultured Javanese prince, the perfect synthesis between the rational West and
the sensual East, appeared to many people as the embodiment of their oriental
dreams. With his highly developed Javanese sensitivity he very quickly adapted
to the role this "Biedermeier theater society" cast him in. And he
relished every moment of it. In a later letter he stated: "I came to Europe
as a true Javanese and I returned to Java as a real German"[72].
That is as a German fantasy of a Javanese prince, as the late-romantic German
idea about how an Oriental prince should look and act like.[73]

The two aspects of his personality that spring out of his letters to Baud
and Duke Ernst are the condensed expressions of two different experiences: one
discriminatory and degrading, the other supportive and appreciative.

If we look at the structure and syntax of the Malay he used then we can
surely understand that this type of language could not stimulate intellectual
or spiritual development. This language restricted the mental agility of its
speakers. It was not meant to spread knowledge or support personal growth. It
was the language of submission and obsequiousness. Therefore I'm convinced,
that by forcing the Javanese into using an inadequate language in their
dealings with the modern world, the Dutch delibertly restricted the
intellectual growth of their colonial subjects. They created, through their
language policies, personalities, which they regarded as typical Javanese:
child-like, stammering characters.

But not only did Raden Saleh and the Javanese suffer from the forced use
of "Brabbel-Maleisch", the Dutch suffered as well. Since this
rudimentary language was their main channel of communication with the
"inlanders" they were unable to discover the rich and mature
personalities hidden behind the stammering Javanese. Their picture of the
"child-like natives" was to a large extent influenced and kept intact
by their racist language policy.

If I all the time until now hesitated, to set about to the execution of
such a delicate painting, as affection and gratefulness which I feel towards
You do demand, so the idea brought to me comfort, that in the meantime I would
reach a higher degree of perfeciton in art.

As I always may count of Your indulgence and as I ever since steadily
occupied myself with the art of painting, I now have the feeling to be strong
enough to start with the hunting subject, I promised You a long time ago, and
during the work I will all the time talk in my mind with his former benevolent
owner.

But now I miss something, that is the model of a good running dog, which
I wich to paint from nature. There is one of that kind in the possession of the
royal family here, and another request from Your side, addressed to the court
here, would immediately effect the permission for me, to paint it for You. I
feel moved to communicate a
confidential message to You, my most adored friend.

In Paris I lived until now extremely secluded, devoting myself
exclusively to art, which I believe to be made for. My striving for perfection
tied me to my easel, and since I did not mind any effort nor expenditure to
overcome so many difficulties of art, I had the pleasure and satisfaction of
listening to the praise of Horace Vernet, who expressed in very kind words his
applaus about my latest painting, which
is now shown in the Louvre.

But while sitting constantly in front of my painting, and painting native
subjects, there involuntarily came sneaking into my heart the ardent desire for
my beautiful motherland, where the most affectionate relatives would wait for
me since 15 years, and would express their longing for me in every letter.

My entire soul is nowadays all the more inspired by the notion of my
native country, as with increasing artistic strength the necessity for solid
preliminairy studies for outstanding pictures, which I wish to paint will,
articulates itself more and more decisively. Only through true studies of the
wild beasts, of the clusters of rocks and bushes, of the constantly smoking
mountains, of the jungle and the
creepers etc. my major works can obtain the true impression of a great
beauty of nature, and this nature is my motherland, where I wish to meet again
my loving, long-missed relatives!!! I therefore
applied to Holland, and I am looking forward to receiving a consent.

Before I would commit myself to such a long journey, which will separate
me from - - Europe, I can not withstand the sincere wish of my heart, to meet
You, my adored friend, once more, and to ask from You personally the
continuation of a friendship, which made me feeling so happy.

I have the honour to greet Your Royal Highness with amicable devotion. I assure You, I always will remain
Your Royal Highness sincere and very grateful friend.

That this letter with all honour and love will be conveyed to the
Excellency Lord Minister of the Colonies

Next I apologize for not responding immediately to Your Excellency’s
letter. I express a thousandfold thanks for receiving from Your Excellency’s
sympathy and might that bill of exchange, indeed that day I had not more than
12 Franc left in my hands. Now I feel lucky for having friends among artists
which are ready to support me, like H. Scheffer, Ramau and others, but
unfortunately many are leaving now to go to other places, since in Paris
(malingken) cold season, which (bolia) good to work and there are meetings with
the artists.

I want to make studies now daily from a nude model, the price is at any
rate 6 Franc a day, for 8 hours. The price of a female model is 8 Franc.
Unfortunately now all the models are too expensive for my pocket, but I hope
with assiduity I can finish the studies within this month, I hope next year I
can move to (pingir nagrie) in order to find a pleasant and unexpensive studio,
just recently I was sick (gall), during 14 days I could not work, I was lucky
and have recovered already without consulting a physician, since in Paris
whether fine or sick everything is expensive.

In addition I express my devotion and honour towards the Lady and all the
children. Your Excellency’s friend expresses many thanks and love.

Raden Saleh

There is a draughtsman of horses (jang bisja), he allowed me to come to
his studio and also to draw horses from nature, and this artist and others came
on Wednesday afternoon to have tea and a chat in my house, and now I have
become a member of the Societé oriental, since there would good and wealthy
people meet.

3. To Ernst II of Saxonia,
Coburg and Gotha

Facsimile

of the letter

from

23.7.1845

Raden Saleh and The Indonesian Art Boom

Amir
Sidharta

In 1996 the Indonesian art scene was shocked by the appearance of a
stolen Raden Saleh in Christie's Singapore
auction catalogue from October 1996. This was one of the "side
effects" of the record-breaking sale of Raden Saleh's "Deer
Hunt" in previous March. Since the first sales of Indonesian art, both in
the Netherlands and in Singapore, Raden Saleh's paintings were always
considered to be significant in one way or another. In early 1998, the
previously stolen Raden Saleh greeted visitors to an exhibition of the
collection of the Department of Education and Culture.

Over and over again, the works of Raden Saleh served as landmarks in the
development of the appreciation for Indonesian art throughout the Indonesian
art boom of 1987-1997. In this article, I wish to convey, in a narrative
manner, the ways in which Raden Saleh's paintings have indeed signified that
development.

On a bright Sunday morning in early September 1996, I visited a sculpture
exhibition at the Department of Education's Exhibition Hall at Gambir, Central
Jakarta. As I was about to leave, a staff member handed me some of the
Department's old catalogues that were about to be thrown away.

One of the catalogues was about a 1988 exhibition held in preparation of
Indonesia's long-awaited Wisma Seni Nasional (National Art Gallery). A page of
this catalogue had been torn out, and so, when taking the book in hand, it
always would open right at the page next to the torn one. And the torn page
just happened to show the biographical datas of Raden Saleh, and the book
always opened to a portrait of a Dutch official, done by the painter, which is
now owned by the Department of Education and Culture.

By sheer coincidence, the next day, the Christie's catalogue for their
October 1996 sale of Indonesian paintings arrived in my office mail. Immediately, I took a quick
glance at the paintings included in the sale. However, it was not until the
next day that I realized that the Raden Saleh painting offered by Christie's
was exactly the same painting, which appeared in the 1988 catalogue of the
National Art Gallery.

That Tuesday, I had scheduled to take my guests from a Japanese museum to
meet with Sudarmadji Damais, the Director of the Jakarta History Museum. I took
the occasion to show the piece to him. He recognized the painting, as the pair
of the couple depicted in the portrait was in the collection of his museum.

Later that day, a staff member of the Department of Education and Culture
also came to the Jakarta History Museum to conduct a research. The Department
had received a report from the Estate of Basoeki Abdullah that one of the
painter's works which was supposed to be in the custody of the National Museum
had appeared in the Christie's catalogue as well. It became clear that some
paintings had been stolen from the National Museum.

The incident received a strong response from the press after the story
was leaked by art writer Agus Dermawan T. An article about the theft appeared
on Thursday on the front page of the daily
Kompas. Agus knew about the appearance of the Basoeki Abdullah in the
Christie's sale from the Estate of the painter, but initially did not know
about the theft of the other paintings. However, a Jakarta Post reporter who
was tipped about the affair and eager to obtain confirmation from anyone who
knew more about the matter, called Agus and asked him about the painting of
Raden Saleh. The reporter's question thus tipped the writer about the theft of
the painter's Dutch Official Wearing the Willem's Order. Agus had an even
better story about the scandal to present to the press.

The Minister of Education and Culture and his staff imme­di­ately tried
their best in getting back the stolen pieces. The Director of the National
Museum, who is also an official under the Department, was dispatched to
Singapore the following week to retrieve the paintings. Christie's assisted as
best as they could. It was Christie's policy not to disclose the name of the
vendor of the paintings, but the auction house tried their best in persuading
the vendor to hand the paintings back to the Department of Education and
Culture. Christie's handled the negotiations between the Department and the
vendor's lawyer. The talks resulted in the vendor's agreeing to return the
paintings, on the condition that the Department dropped any charges against
him. The vendor of course claimed that he was unaware of the fact that the
paintings he tried to sell through Christie's were stolen merchandise.

In Jakarta both the Department of Education and Culture and Christie's
separately held press conferences announcing the return of the two paintings.
For the most part, the press deemed that Christie's should be accountable for
the incident. Many thought that Christie's experts should have known that the
paintings were owned by the Department of Education and Culture. Some even
thought that Christie's attempted to sell the piece even though they may have
suspected the pieces had questionable provenances. However, others also
realized that if the pieces were not sold through a public auction, the
Department of Education and Culture and the general public would not have
learned about the theft at the National Museum as early as they had, and might
not have never seen the paintings again. "Thanks to Christie's, we know
that these paintings had been stolen! If they did not appear in the Christie's
catalogue, we might not know where they would have ended up," exclaimed
Sudarmadji Damais, Director of the Jakarta History Museum.

As it turned out, however, there were not two but five
paintings from the National Museum that were going to be offered in the
Christie's sale. More surprisingly, it was later learned, that there were not
five but rather twenty-five paintings

Picture 7:

(black & white)

The stolen Painting

that were stolen from the National Museum in Jakarta. The
Department eventually managed to get back all of the stolen paintings. The
mastermind of the theft was never caught, but in mid-May 1997 the two National
Museum's staff members who were involved in the crime were tried, and if found
guilty could be sentenced up to seven years in prison.

Who is actually to blame for the theft of the paintings from the National
Museum is perhaps irrelevant at this point. To know and understand what had
caused the theft of the paintings to occur seems to be more useful than to
point fingers at each other.

One of the most interesting facts related to the theft in the National
Museum is that the works of the nineteenth century Indonesian painter Raden
Saleh is closely related to the developments of the Indonesian art market and
appreciation. On one hand, Raden Saleh's paintings that have appeared on the
market can be used to gauge the condition of the market's strength. On the
other hand, the development in the Indonesian art market has heightened public
awareness about the significance of Raden Saleh's works.

To fully comprehend why the theft of the paintings from Jakarta's
National Art Gallery occurred, the incident should be seen within the context
of the Indonesian art boom. Many observers agree that Indonesian art
experienced a boom for about a decade starting at the end of 1987 and ending at
the end of 1997.

Alongside the liberalization in the field of banking around 1987-88, the
Indonesian fine arts scene became tremendously festive. A number of new
galleries started to open in Jakarta at that particular period of time, but the
center of Indonesian art at this time was Bali. At the suggestion of the
painter Rudolf Bonnet in the 1970s Suteja Neka, a former schoolteacher,
established his Museum Neka in 1985. This museum, which represented a rather
comprehensive view about the development of Indonesian fine arts, had become
the most prominent museum of art on that island, if not in the whole country.

Therefore, the Balinese galleries, especially the Neka Gallery and Agung
Rai Gallery, developed rapidly. A number of Indonesian businessmen, gaining
huge profits from growing business related to the liberalization of banking,
started to collect paintings. They visited the Balinese galleries hunting for
the best works of art. It is said that in 1988 a businessman connected to
Indonesia's first family bought eight paintings from a gallery in Bali for a
total of Rp 1,2 billion (US$ 800.000?). The Indonesian art boom had definitely
been entered upon.

In 1989 a Dutch auctioneer, Jan Pieter Glerum noticed that there was a
considerable interest in art about Indonesia, and decided to enter this market.
As early as 1990, the auction house offered a work by Raden Saleh entitled The
Eruption of Mount Merapi, which was sold for a price of NF 25.000.

The development of the market of paintings of Indonesian subject was
finally discovered by Christie's, which started to hold auction of Indonesian
paintings in 1992. Sotheby's later followed Christie's footsteps and also
entered the Southeast Asian art market.

The financially stronger Christie's started to hold their sales in
Singapore in 1994, as the auction house saw a strong market development in the
region. Christie's business estimations and timing turned out to be correct.
Raden Saleh's "The Eruption of Mount Merapi", previously sold at the
Glerum auction in 1990, appeared in this debut sale in Southeast Asia and was
sold at a price of S$ 280.000. This meant that the value of the painting had
increased over twelve times in the course of approximately four years.

Due to the success that year, the next year Christie's held two auctions,
increasing their sales until over threefold compared to the auctions in the
previous year. In Christie's March 1995 auction held in Singapore a rather
bland Raden Saleh landscape was offered. This painting sold for S$ 550.000. At
each auction for the first three sales in Singapore, the Raden Salehs that were
offered for sale set the record price for the artist. Considering each painting
being equal, in five years the price of Raden Salehs had increased more than
twenty times.

It was at Christie's Singapore auction in March 1996 that the sale of
Raden Saleh's works reached its peak. The nineteenth century painter's large
"Deer Hunt" was sold at an astonishing hammer price of S$ 2,8
million. The achievement of this price was a record for Southeast Asian
paintings, and the successful sale indicated the peak of the Indonesian art
boom. Due to this remarkable sale, which also made front page in the country's
leading daily Kompas, the general public in Indonesia suddenly became aware of
the value of paintings. The importance of Raden Saleh as a painter could also
be more easily appreciated because there was a tangible monetary value that
could be attached to the painter's works.

However, it seems that the achievement of this record price also led to
certain negative developments. Following the sale crimes in the field of art
indicated a marked increase. Raden Saleh's "Dutch Officer Wearing the
Willem's Order", which was stolen from the National Museum, appeared in
the Christie's catalogueue of their October sale of Indonesian painting that
year. It can be assumed that the theft occurred not long after the sale of
"Deer Hunt".

Due to matters of bureaucracy among other institutional burdens, the
Department of Education and Culture and the National Museum unfortunately had
not been responsive enough to the Indonesian art boom. As a result, they failed
to take a strategic position in becoming the foremost institution in the field
of fine arts. So, instead of creating an art museum or even interpretive
exhibitions of Indonesian art with their vast collection, they left their
collections neglected in storage.

Tempted by huge profits that can be gained from the sale of the master's
works at such high prices, the mastermind of the theft persuaded some employees
of the Museum to hand over some works of the collections, which had been
neglected in storage for almost a decade, for a fee.

The amount of the fee that the employees got for obtaining the pieces
could be predicted using Christie's estimates for the paintings. The Basoeki
Abdullah painting was estimated at S$ 8.000 to S$ 12.000, or Rp. 13.6 million
to Rp. 20.4 million. Considering the strong market at the time, we can assume
that the work was expected to sell at Rp. 20 million. Discounting commissions
and expenses, the vendor would have gotten a net revenue of around Rp. 12
million. So we can predict that the mastermind would have given the Museum
employees a maximum price of one fifth of the net revenue expected, or Rp. 2.4
million, for the piece.

The Raden Saleh was estimated at S$ 100,000 - 170,000, or Rp. 170 million
to Rp. 255 million. We might be able to expect this damaged piece to sell for a
little underf the lower estimate. Minus commissions and expenses, the net
revenue that could be expected from this work was Rp. 80 million. For this
particular piece, the mastermind would have given a maximum of Rp. 10 million.

However, it is almost certain that the mastermind of the theft got the
twenty-five paintings as a lot. As the lot would consist of paintings of
different qualities, sizes, and conditions, let us way that the entire lot of
25 paintings would have been obtained for a fee of under Rp. 30 million. In the
meantime, we can assume that the theft was a work of conspiracy between two
employees familiar with the Museum storage and a security guard, whose salaries
are each around Rp.300.000 including benefits. If this is correct, then the fee
of Rp. 10 million per person for the job would have been considered
substantial, as it was likely to be more than thirty times each of their monthly
salaries.

In the May 1997 trials on the theft, the dailies Media Indonesia and
Jayakarta reported that the two staff members of the National Museum had
initially (in March or April 1996) sold three paintings by Affandi for Rp. 6 million, following the master­mind's
offer of Rp. 3 million for each painting. In April, they offered Raden Saleh's
"Dutch Officer Wearing the Willem's Order" to the mastermind for Rp.
5 million. The staff member of the museum sold twelve more for a sum of Rp. 9
million. It was determined that the two National Museum staff members had
assisted in the theft of seventeen paintings from the National Museum and eight
from other proprietors kept in the Museum between March and September 1996.

Considering that the paintings were neglected anyway, the employees
involved in the theft seemed to have thought that what the mastermind asked
them to do could not be deemed too serious of a crime. Therefore, they took out
the paintings and handed them over to the mastermind. They figured, what they
did, would make everybody happy: they themselves got a considerable amount of
money for a relatively easy job, the mastermind got the paintings he wanted,
and the Museum was set free from the burden of having to take care for the
pieces.

The other negative development following the sale of "Deer
Hunt" is an even greater appearance of fake paintings in the market. It
seems that following the record-breaking sale, more and more people started to
realize the high prices of paintings. Along with an increasing number of new
collectors, a rise in the number of works saturating the market is also
evident. Among the great number of paintings being offered in the market, there
are many fakes.

In the auctions of Southeast Asian art in Singapore emerged some rather
questionable pieces attributed to Raden Saleh. Although further research needs
to be done on the authenticity of those pieces, it can not be denied that many
scholars and observers of Raden Saleh's work doubt the attribution of the works
to the nineteenth century Indonesian master. Some of the pieces are done with
considerable mastery of nineteenth century art, and it is highly probable that
Raden Saleh forgeries have originated from Holland or some other European
countries.

It seems that the prices of Raden Saleh's paintings have made it
worthwhile for some European master forgers to produce fakes of his works.
Speaking generally about the existence of fakes in art about Indonesia,
pioneering auctioneer Jan Pieter Glerum observed that it seems that the most
convincing forgeries of pre-War paintings about Indonesia were done in Europe,
and particularly Holland, while the most convincing post-War Indonesian fakes
were done in Indonesia. If this were indeed the case, then it would be safe to
assume that the best forgeries of the work of Raden Saleh were done in Europe.
This only means that scholars and students of Raden Saleh need to take extra
precautions in studying the works of the master, since the art of forgery in
Europe is quite developed.

The high prices that the works of Raden Saleh have managed to fetch in
the auctions of Indonesian and Southeast Asian art in Singapore, have sparked
an increase in the number of art crimes in Indonesia, including art theft and
art forgeries.

On the other hand, the record-breaking sale of "Deer Hunt" and
the theft of "Dutch Official Wearing the Willem's Order" from the
National Museum have also contributed to a heightened awareness of the
significance of Raden Saleh's works, both among art collectors as well as the
general public.

The awareness about the increasing monetary value of the paintings by the
nineteenth century Indonesian master lured collectors who already had the
painter's works in their possession to sell. Meanwhile, the auction houses were
very much aware that collectors who did not yet have a Raden Saleh were eager
to buy.

In the auctions of Southeast Asian art in March 1997, Christie's and
Sotheby's offered a total of four Raden Saleh paintings. Among the works that
were sold, Christie's sold "Lions Fighting a Snake Outside a Grotto in a
Tropical Landscape" for S$ 1.8 million, while Sotheby's sold "Lions
and Tigers Fight over a Dead Horse" for S$ 700,000.

The theft at the National Museum seems to have also served as a reminder
for the urgent need for the creation of the National Art Gallery, which had
been discussed since the 1950s. In February 1998, marking the eleventh
anniversary of their Exhibition Hall in Gambir, Central Jakarta, the Department
of Education and Culture presented a huge exhibition of their vast collection.
Placed right in front of the entrance, to greet the visitors was the once
stolen Raden Saleh "Dutch Official Wearing the Willem's Order".
Another Raden Saleh, "Ship Wreck", was also exhibited in this show.
Yet again, Raden Saleh's paintings play an important role in the development of
Indonesian art appreciation.

In a seminar held in conjunction with this exhibition, art critic and
curator Jim Supangkat revealed the Department of Education and Culture's plans
to establish the National Art Gallery. Finally, the Department decides to take
a bold step to act as the leader in the knowledge of Indonesian fine arts.

Many significant events and incidences have occurred throughout the boom
of Indonesian art of 1987-1998, and the paintings of Raden Saleh highlighted
the most important cases. Along with the monetary crisis that the Indonesian
economy is facing today, the boom has also seemed to end.

During the rapid pace of development during the boom, there seemed to
have been little if any time dedicated toward proper research, analysis and
interpretation of Indonesian art in general. While the collectors competed to
get the most sought after paintings, Raden Saleh being on the top of the list,
the general public also became interested in works of Raden Saleh as they were
intrigued with the prices they were fetching at the auctions.

Today, the boom can be considered to be already over, following the crash
of the Indonesian economy due to the sudden rise of the dollar against the
rupiah. While Indonesian collectors may continue their pursuit of Raden Saleh's
works, it is almost sure that we can no longer expect Raden Saleh's paintings
to fetch the high prices they did in the past. The Raden Saleh record price is
unlikely to broken again in the next decade or so.

Fortunately, the boom did manage to attract the pursuit of broader and
deeper knowledge in the field of Indonesian fine art. Furthermore, the legacy
of Raden Saleh has proven impressive, and hence there remains a strong
enthusiasm among the general public toward the important figure in the
development of Indonesian art. As the boom is indeed over, it is certain that
Raden Saleh and his works will be among the foremost subjects of research in
the field of Indonesian art. After all, Raden Saleh is considered as the first
Indonesian painter, hence "The Father of Indonesian Painting".

Although many students of Indonesian art may already know the painter's
life story, proper research regarding the figure is still relatively limited.
An interpretive exhibition about Raden Saleh will most certainly be welcome.

Art
Theft in Jakarta

According to
News from “Jakarta Post”

arranged
by Peter Sternagel

Once more a painting by Raden Saleh was to be offered at an auction by
Christie’s in Singapore on October 6, 1996. This work was, however, stolen
together with other paintings shortly before from the National Museum in
Jakarta. Up to now not all the details of the art theft are known to us. We
therefore refer only to the news published by the “Jakarta Post” between
September 20 and October 7, 1996 which are nevertheless worth reading.

Friday, September 20

First news about an art theft in Jakarta. A number of valuable paintings
by world-reknowned Indonesian masters have been stolen from the National
Museum. Among the works were also one by the legendary master Raden Saleh. The
theft is said to have taken place many weeks ago.

Saturday, September 21

On the front page follows the news, that two paintings which were
allegedly stolen from the National Museum in Jakarta have been withdrawn by
Christie’s from its auction on October 6. One, with the lot number 363 entitled
“Portrait of a Dutch Governor Wearing the Willams Order” being a work of Raden

Saleh completed in 1867 would be offered at an opening
price between S$ 100.000 and 150.000.

Sunday, September 22

The front-page shows two large reproductions in colour of the stolen
paintings of Raden Saleh and Basoeki Abdullah. The independent art curator Jim
Supangkat said in an interview that
government and police were expected to make an immediate request to the
Singaporean authorities in order to get the paintings back. It is mentioned,
that there were at least six valuable paintings stolen from the National Museum
in Jakarta.

Thuesday, September 24

News about the art theft still occupy the front page. The day before the
Minister of Education and Culture Wardiman Djojonegoro had confirmed the theft
of a number of valuable paintings from the National Museum. Police records show
that the theft was only recorded on September 12, hidden from the public by the
museum, however, until art curators were amazed to find thet wo paintings in
Christie’s catalogue. Employees of the museum were said of being involved in
the theft.

The editorial of the same issue reflects the art theft and there is also
an article by Amir Sidharta which deals profoundly with all the aspects of the
case.

Wednesday, September 25

Again on the front-page: The secretary to Irene Lee, general manager of
Christie’s Singapore, is quoted as telling the newspaper, that no officials
from Indonesia or Singapore had contacted the auction house about the two
Indonesian paintings.

Friday, September 27

The heading front-page story reports about the return of the five (sic) paintings
allegedly stolen. The day before Chriestie’s managing director had told a press
conference, the the seller of the paintings had assured them of his intention
to “donate” the works to Indonesia. The seller was described as a Singaporean
citizen who also does business in Indonesia.

Saturday, September 28

According to Minister Wardiman six of the 12 paintings were discovered
missing on September 6, the others just this week. He continued, Indonesia will
not sue the Singaporean collector. His lawyer had said that his client had no
idea the paintings he bought were those stolen form the Jakarta museum. A
reliable source said that the Singaporean were the third person to own the
paintings after they were allegedly stolen.

The five paintings (including that of Raden Saleh) were flown back to
Jakarta last Thursday.

Saturday, October 5

After a week without any news about the art theft, this issue reveils
further details on its front-page: A Singaporean art collector who recently
handed over five stolen paintings to Jakarta is now wanted by the Indonesian
police for allegedly selling at least 25 paintings stolen form the National
Museum. The suspect who is accused of purchasing a number of paintings directly
from four employees of the museum is said to work as an executive of a large
business group in Jakarta. 22 of the 25 stolen paintings were already in the
possession of the police, among others works by Utrillo, Cézanne, Leger,
Picasso, Renoir and the Indonesian masters Basoeki Abdullah and Affandi.

Monday, Oktober 7

The newspapers states that there were still some questions in connection
with the art theft which remain unanswered. Among the substantial questions are
those pertaining to how the works of art were stolen and why Christie’s failed
to look into the origin of the five valuable Indonesian paintings listed for
it’s auction. Four of the suspected thieves are said to have admitted they
stole the paintings on different occasions between March and June. They had
sold the 25 works of art for Rp 21.5 million (approximately US $ 9.000,-)
directly to the Singaporean fence.

Since then we could not identify any further news about the art theft in
the “Jakarta Post” in 1996.

The
Authors of this Issue

Renate Kant

Studies of Art History in Berlin and Cologne, Aesthetics and Painting
Technique at Hochschule für Bildende Künste, Hamburg. Education and employment
at mueseums in Berlin and Darmstadt as a restorer of paintings, sculptures and
preservation of monument. Directed a studio of conservation and restoration for
twenty three years with a team of employees and trainees. Full member of the
German Restorer's Association (Deutscher Restauratoren­verband DRV)

Werner Kraus,
Dr. phil.

Studied Southeast-Asian Studies at Heidelberg University and Cornell
University, Ithaca/New York, 1984 until 1991 Assistant Lecturer at University
of Passau, Department of Southeast-Asian Studies. Now freelance writer and
researcher, main topics> Islam in Southeast-Asia and Art in Indonesia

Harsja W.
Bachtiar

Former Director
of Higher Education, Department of Education and Culture, R.I. Cultural Attaché at the Embassy of the R.I.
in Den Haag. (To be completed by Mr.
Saini or one of his Indonesian colleagues)

Amir Sidharta

Preview
of the next Issue

Pierre Labrousse/Claude Guillot

Peter Carey

Harsja W. Bachtiar

*) Reprint from "Majalah Ilmu-Ilmu
Sastra Indonesia" - Indonesian Journal of Cultural Studies VI/3, August
1976, with courtesy by the family of the late H.W. Bachtiar

[4] See especially Soekanto, Dua Raden
Saleh : dua nasionalis dalam abad ke-19
(Two Raden Saleh : two natinalistis in the 19th century) (Jakarta :
Poesaka Aseli, 1951) and Baharudin Marasutan, Raden Saleh 1807-1880 : Perintis
seni lukis di Indonesia (Raden Saleh 1807-1880 : Painting pioner in Indonesia)
(Jakarta : Dewan Kesenian Jakarta, 1973). In a study of 11 pages, Soekante
concluded that although the painter had been abroad for about a quarter of a
century, and had become Western oriented, he did not forget his own nation;
that, coming from a revolutionary family which was related to Pangeran (Prince)
Diponegoro, he loved and respected the Prince, one who fought for independence;
that in short, he was a nationalist, a famous painter, a prominent figure in
Indonesian national history. These conclusions were also adopted by Baharudin
Marasutan.

[5] Soekanto disputed the date with
reference to a letter, signed by Saleh’s mother, to the Resident of Semarang,
dated August 22, 1843 : see Soekanto, op.cit.
pp. 12-14. She mentioned in her letter that her son was given in trust to
the painter Paijen in 1817. If Saleh was indeed born in 1814, so Soekanto
argued, he would have been three years of age which could not be possible.
Soekanto thinks that Saleh was born in 1807. The present author tends to think
that Saleh’s mother was wrong in her date, although he can accept an argument
which leans to a slightly earlier date, perhaps 1812, which would not be
unusual. Official correspondence and Saleh’s own pronouncements make 1814 more
acceptable as his year of birth than 1807.

[12] Report about the Residency of the
Preanger Regencies by Resident Jhr. R.L.J. van der Capellen to Governor General
G.A.G.P. Baron van der Capellen, dated Tjianjor, March 13, 1822. Item No. 31 in
Collection J.C. Baud No. 90, Rijksarchief, The Hague. The author wishes to
record his gratitude to Mr. M.G.H.A. de Graaf, Rijksarchief, for having kindely
and effectively helped him in his search for information in the Dutch State
Archives.

[29]
Letter by Raden Saleh to the Grand Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, dated
The Hague, December 25, 1844. The present author would llike to acknowledge his
deep gratitude to Dr. Ulrich Kratz, who at the request of the author has
arranged for having mircorfilms made of Raden -Saleh's letters which are kept
in the collection of the Herzog­lichen Haus- and Staatsarchiv Coburg. The
author has deposited the microfilm with the Arsip Nasional Republik Indonesia.

[30] Letter by Raden Saleh to the Grand Duke
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, dated Paris, February 4, 1845.

[39] Letter by Raden Saleh to the Grand Duke
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, dated July 1, 1845.

[40] Letter by Raden Saleh to the Grand Duke
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, dated Paris, February 5, 1848.

[41] Saleh’s presence in Paris during the
revolution was used by Soekanto, who based his knowledge on a very short
statement (‘In ‘48 getuige van den Februari omwenteling’) which appears in the
Encyclopedie van Nederlandsch/Indie, Vol. III (‘s-Gravenhage : Martinus
Nijhoff-E.J. Brill, 1905), p. 355, as one of his principle arguments in his
claim that Saleh had revolutionary inclinations.

[42] Letter by Raden Saleh to the Grand Duke
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, dated Dresden, January 3, 1848.

[43] Letter by Raden Saleh to the Grand Duke
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, dated Dresden, February 5, 1848.

[53]
Money, J. W. S., Java or how to
manage a colony. Two volumes. London
1861. Vol. I, pp. 203-204.

[54]
Raden Saleh's birthdate is not
clear. Usually the year 1814 is given but this might be too late. For a
discussion of his birthday see: Soekanto, Dua Raden Saleh, Jakarta: Poesaka
Aseli, 1951, p.12. A portrait of Raden Saleh, drawn by Carl Christian Vogel von
Vogelstein in 1839 (Kupferstich­kabinett Dresden, Inv. Nr. C 3314), is signed
by Raden Saleh himself as follows: "Raden Saleh geboren op Semarang Java
in maand juli 1811". This is the only document I know of in which Raden
Saleh gives information on his birthdate. For this reason I list 1811 as his
year of birth.

[55]
Surtees, Virginia, Charlotte
Canning. Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Victoria and Wife of the first Viceroy of
India, 1817-1861. London: John Murray, 1979, p. 158. In the same account she
compares Raden Saleh, whom she met in Coburg in 1845, with a tame domesticated
monkey and adds: "Ld. Aberdeen was
so taken aback the first day to see this black in his Turkish dress instead of
handing us coffee, quietly take some to drink himself".

[59]
For Raden Salehs time in Germany
see: Werner Kraus, “Raden Saleh. Ein indonesischer Maler in Deutschland”,
Orientierungen1 (1996), pp. 29-62. For his time in France see the forthcoming
article by Pierre Labrousse in Archipel, autum 1997.

[68]
While staying in Dresden he usually
signed his paintings in Latin script and added a signature in Jawi and Javanese
script.

[69]
Crawfurd, J., History of the Indian
archipelago, containing an account of the manners, arts, languages, religions
... of the inhabitants, 3 vol., Edinburgh, 1820. - Sura Adi Menggala was the
key informant on Javanese literatur and culture for Sir Thomas Raffels.